


Changes

by Hobroseyberry (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 01, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2579051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Hobroseyberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott begins to notice some changes to his physique and tells Stiles about his dream. Afterwards, Scott learns the true identity of the guy behind his late-night fantasies.</p><p>Set during 1.01 - Wolf Moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

> No sexy times this time, just some nice plot for you. More to come. Literally.
> 
> Mostly Sciles friendship, some implied Scallison and of course, implied Scerek.
> 
> Contact me on my [Tumblr](http://aspiring816.tumblr.com).

When you're friends with Stiles Stilinski, you have to proceed with caution when you inform him of anything, because he has a horrible habit of blurting things aloud— _very loud_ —without really thinking about the consequences. That was why Scott was hesitant to tell him about the gay sex dream, which was still making his face hot with embarrassment.

It had been a rough night for Scott. Sometime in the middle of the night after his little gay sex episode inside his head, he began feeling hot all over his body, like his skin was melting off his body. At first, he thought he might have had a fever, which would suck because he really wanted to play tomorrow, but as the night went on, the heat intensified and the pain was excruciating to the point where he thought he might be dying. He was beginning to feel anxiety that maybe the bite he got from that wild animal may have given him rabies or something, but before he could get up to tell his mother, his vision blurred and he blacked out.

He woke up not too long after to his mother rapping on his door, informing him that he needed to get to school, and all of a sudden, he felt okay. In fact, he felt better than okay. He felt like he could run a marathon, do at least fifty sets on the barbell, and maybe rescue a kitten from a burning building.

Long story short, Scott McCall was feeling pretty good today, and even better, he felt like he could definitely make first line today. He walked over to his bathroom to take a quick shower (especially to wipe away the stickiness from last night's dream) and brush his teeth. Just as he got out, he noticed his physique in the mirror. His arms looked bigger, a lot bigger. His pecs were also bulging out more prominently, and his abs... He actually had abs instead of that soft, lanky look Stiles had.

After he got to school and showed off his bloody, bandaged battle scar from that night in the woods, Scott told him slowly about what he had dreamt about right after.

"YOU HAD A SEX DREAM ABOUT A DUDE—" Scott frantically clamped his hands around Stiles' mouth. Another thing to note about Stiles, his mouth never stops moving.

Scott could feel his hot, wet breath against his palm as he continued speaking with muffled words. Scott dared himself to remove his hand to see if Stiles is over the initial shock.

"—CAN'T BELIEVE YOU OF ALL PEOPLE WOULD HAVE A GAY SEX—"

Nope.

A few moments later, he tried again.

"—SO THANKFUL THAT YOU CHOSE ME TO COME OUT TO—"

Still nope. After the muffling stopped for a few seconds (because even the motormouth that is Stiles Stilinski needed a moment to breathe), Scott finally pulled his hand away from his friend's mouth, which he was glad for because now his hand was covered in his friend's spit.

"So, broski, does this mean you're now swinging for the bat swingers? Does this mean you and Danny are gonna date? I wonder if Danny likes me. I'm not bad-looking. Am I a good-looking dude, Scott? I only ask because you're now ordering the salami at Dorothy's house."

"I don't even know what that means."

"So, Scotty-boy, who was the dream about? Was it Danny? I'm sure it was Danny."

Scott shook his head. "No."

"Was it Jackson?" Stiles made a face when he said that. Jackson Whittemore was the biggest douchebag to ever hit the face of the Earth. But he was a hot douchebag, even the sexually-confused-gay-sex-dream-haver that was Scott McCall could admit that.

"Hell, no."

Stiles let out a sigh of relief. "Was it Greenberg? That's gross, dude. Greenberg always smells like cheese."

"No!" Scott exlaimed, annoyed. "It wasn't Greenberg or anyone on the lacrosse team. It was some guy. I didn't know who he was. I just remember black hair and... and..."

Stiles' heartbeat was beating really fast now, and—And how can Scott possibly know that?

"And what?" Stiles said anxiously.

"And... and a really..." Scott shuffled his feet. He didn't want to say it, but he was already in this deep anyway. "A really _hot_ body."

Stiles burst out laughing and Scott felt the urge to punch him. "Oh, wow, bro! I can't believe it! My best friend of all people! I'm so proud. I'm like the proud father of a gay child. This must be how Neil Patrick Harris' parents feel everyday."

"I'M NOT GAY!" Scott shouted before clamping his hands to his mouth.

A few passersby walked by them, giving them odd glances as Stiles stepped back a little as if to pretend that he didn't know Scott. The little traitor. When people were back to ignoring him, Scott whispered angrily, "I'm not gay!"

"I guess," Stiles shrugged. "I mean, every straight guy has a gay sex dream at least once in their life."

"Have you ever had a gay sex dream?"

"Never."

"I hate you."

"I know," Stiles smiled brightly before the two walked to English together.

☾

Aside from the embarrassing ordeal with Stiles, today went by amazingly.

First, he met the new girl, Allison Argent, who was like an angel and a goddess in one. Her long black hair fell perfectly against her shoulders and her smile was heavenly. He's pretty sure this is what it was like staring into the face of God. Her voice was seductive, so seductive that he practically heard her voice in his head before she even spoke to him. And that voice spoke words of beauty... about needing a pen, which he smoothly gave her before she even asked for one.

She smiled kindly at him, and something told him that he made a bomb first impression. Unfortunately, Allison also seemed to have caught the attention of the school's power couple, Jackson Whittemore and Lydia Martin. Not even in the school for ten minutes, and Lydia has already got her claws on her. Poor girl.

Afterwards, the strangest thing happened at lacrosse. Coach Finstock had placed Scott on goal, in hopes that Scott's poor performance would help boost the morale of the team if they got shots passed the asthmatic kid. However, they weren't able to. In fact, none of them got any shots passed Scott, because Scott caught every single ball. It was almost like the balls were moving in slow motion and Scott had all the time in the world to catch them. His swift movement left Finstock and the entire team speechless.

Even Jackson Whittemore was fuming. He was seething in such a jealous rage, Scott could practically smell it on him.

Scott couldn't believe how perfect things were going for him. Maybe it was all the good karma he was putting out there in the world. Or maybe this is a sign that patience and hard work, or whatever crap those Chinese fortune cookies were talking about, are finally paying off!

Even when he was describing it to Stiles later one when they ventured back into the preserve to retrieve his missing inhaler, his best friend was hardly believing it himself. Actually, Stiles seemed to have been acting a little odd lately. He seemed more anxious and excited about something. Maybe it was the ADHD. As the two friends ventured deep into the woods towards where Scott found the body, Stiles brought up the dream again.

"I don't know, Stiles, I kinda wanna stop talking about it," Scott mumbled. And it was true. Aside from the sexuality crisis, his day had been going perfectly. And maybe Stiles was right before, that some guys had dreams like that. Even if Stiles was being sarcastic about it.

"Come on, bro, this is a big thing!"

"Not as big as today when I made all those shots," Scott countered. "I mean, it's weird. Today I swore I could hear and smell things I shouldn't be hearing and smelling." When Stiles looked at him like he was crazy, Scott pointed out that Stiles had some Mint Mojito gum in his pocket. "What if it's like an infection or something and my body's flooding with adrenaline before it goes into shock."

"Oh, yeah, I think I heard about before," Stiles said as they reached the hill that Scott had fallen down from. "I think it's called Lycanthropy."

Scott's eyes widened and his face was hardened in worry. "What is it? It sounds serious."

"Yeah, it totally is. It's very bad. It happens every month. On the night of the full moon." Stiles emphasized his point by howling like wolf. The asshole.

Scott began searching through the leaves for his inhaler as Stiles stood on the sidelines, supervising. Frustrated that he could not find his inhaler, Scott was pulled from his search when Stiles hit him on the shoulder and pointed behind him.

Scott turned around and his eyes widened in shock.

There was a man standing creepily about twenty yards away from them. But that's not what spooked Scott.

It was _**him**_. It was sex dream guy. The guy that was making him question his sanity and sexuality. He had the same spiky black hair and the same brooding eyebrows. And he was willing to bet that if the man stripped naked right now, his body would be the same drool-worthy body from his dreams. It was definitely the guy, because Scott's dick began to swell a little bit from just seeing him.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

The hot guy stopped closer. "What are you doing here? This is private property."

"Sorry, man, we didn't know," Stiles said, glancing over at Scott. But Scott was too tongue-tied to even say anything, even when Stiles was hitting his shoulder repeatedly to snap him out of his trance.

The sex god's hand moved swiftly and without even realizing it, Scott had his missing inhaler in his hand. And just like that, the man left.

"Dude, that was Derek Hale," Stiles started when the man was out of sight, "Remember? His family burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago. He's only a couple of years older than us."

"It's him." Scott said simply, still staring at the spot Derek had been.

Stiles looked at him, confused. "Him who?"

"Stiles, it's _him_ ," Scott said slowly, drawing out the last word so that even Stiles could catch on.

Stiles eyes widened. "Him-him? SEX DREAM GUY?" Scott nodded nervously. Stiles began spouting off theories while flailing around like he usually does when he gets excited or nervous or happy or angry or frustrated or sad or—you get the picture. It was odd, though, Stiles was suddenly smelling like how Jackson smelled when he was angry over Scott getting all the praise from Finstock, and it was even odder that Scott would even be able to smell that.

But Scott couldn't worry about that right now. He had other things on his mind.

It was scary enough that the guy of his dreams had just been that: a dream.

But now that Scott knew that he was real, things have started to get a lot more complicated.


End file.
